


My Hersh

by Dewdropzz



Series: In Honour of a Good Man [5]
Category: Professor Layton
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:51:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4414640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dewdropzz/pseuds/Dewdropzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My Hersh. How many memories have you and I shared? We spent so many days together at St. Burns High School. You were such a good student, and so was I, so long as the class was history. We were in all the same classes together, and I remember the strange looks we used to get whenever we started giggling, or bickering in front of the other kids. The whole school knew we were best friends though, and after a while their prying eyes learned to simply look the other way."</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Hersh

My friend. Where have the days of digging for treasure gone?

When Alfendi Layton called me today, and told me that his father was sick and bedridden, I have to say I almost didn't believe him. I thought he was playing some kind of cruel April Fools joke on me early, or perhaps he was talking about a different man named Professor Hershel Layton. The last time I saw you, Hershel, you were as healthy as ever. There was not a single thing wrong with you, and for as long as I've known you, there never has been. I didn't understand how a terrible illness could have crept up and nearly taken you so silently, so quickly. But then Alfendi explained that you were not physically ill. The doctor said there was nothing wrong with you; you were just tired, and lacked the power and the will to get up out of bed.

And to hear Professor Hershel Layton did not have the will to get out of bed... You have no idea how difficult that was for me to hear. Even now I almost feel like coming over there tonight, picking you up out of your bed and sticking a shovel in your hand. I want to ask you to come dig with me, just like we did when we were kids. We could fly away together somewhere far into the desert, or take a ship overseas to the site of some ruin just waiting to be discovered. Or we could dig in the backyard, just for old times sake. We don't have to discover anything, Hershel, so long as I can get you moving again.

But the sad reality of it is that you and I are both getting old. No, that's being generous to ourselves. We are old. I have been retired for many years, and have not been on an archaeological expedition in a very, very long time. You and I have practically grown up together, and now it seems we are both reaching the night of our lives. And yet when I think of you, my dear friend Hershel Layton, I still think of the shy little boy I met in my first year of high school.

My Hersh. How many memories have you and I shared? We spent so many days together at St. Burns High School. You were such a good student, and so was I, so long as the class was history. We were in all the same classes together, and I remember the strange looks we used to get whenever we started giggling, or bickering in front of the other kids. The whole school knew we were best friends though, and after a while their prying eyes learned to simply look the other way.

Perhaps my favourite thing about school in those times was the fencing club you and I were both in. I remember when you convinced me to join just so you would have a friend in the club. You didn't like it much when I beat you in our first tournament. Of course you got me back for it soon enough by kicking my butt in the next one! And do you remember when I first got you interested in doing puzzles? How many puzzles did we solve in those days, just for the sake of solving? And do you remember that single tree you, me and Angela used to sit under on Memory Knoll? And how many evenings we spent at my house reading books about archaeology? My dear friend Hershel... Do you remember?

At the time you weren't at all interested in the field of archaeology. But you would always listen to my babbling about buried artifacts and ancient civilizations, and as my best friend you were subject to the brunt of my raving that one day I too would discover something great. And we did discover something great, you, and I. We found what was essentially the door to a lost civilization. We made it through the Akbadain ruins, and were so close to finding the treasure I had always been searching for... But you were the only one who would make it through the door that day, Hershel.

For as long as I live, the sickening feeling of dangling in midair above a bottomless pit, being held up by only my best friend's quaking arm, will forever haunt my memory. Shots of intense pain ran up my own arm, and I was certain it had been wrenched from its socket from having my entire body weight suspended by one hand. You told me to give you my other hand, but I was stupid and refused to let go of the mask I'd so foolishly brought with us, choosing instead to give it to you so it wouldn't be lost to the ruins... The sight of my best friend disappearing into the distance as I fell to what I thought would be my death, still plagues my dreams at night, even after all these years.

In a way I did die that day. I know I had angels around me when I landed in a stream at the bottom of the cavern, and was rescued by a kindly local farmer who took me in. However, I did not get away completely unharmed. A severe blow to the head left me with amnesia that caused me to forget everything I knew: My parents, my house in Stansbury, and my friends who had given up praying for my safe return. Eighteen years later some of my memories were restored by a peculiar character of a man donning a feather boa and mask. He told me of my past in Stansbury, and of the people I'd left behind. But the man manipulated my mind, and told me lies about my friends, leading me to believe you'd all betrayed me. I became enthralled with the idea that somehow, someway, I would make you all pay for your sins against me.

And using the Mask of Chaos I found so many years ago, I became the Masked Gentleman, performing dark miracles on the city of Monte d'Or. My goal was to destroy the entire city my deceitful friend Henry had built. But you Hershel Layton, it was you who stopped me at the final moment before all would have been lost. And the most ironic part was, Descole told me that Hershel Layton would only let me down. He couldn't have told me a bigger lie about you, Hershel. He couldn't have been any more wrong.

All you ever did was look out for me. When we were in our teenage years you were calm, and looked at life with all the rationality of a mature adult. I was a reckless, headstrong youth with a burning desire to be in the spotlight, or at least to escape the shadow of my overly-successful father. You were level-headed, and I had my head in the clouds, or should I say deep underground at the site of some archaeological find or another. We were like a seesaw: I would push you to your limit, and you would keep me on the ground, and neither one of us could work as well without the other. You were always the one I would bring along with me on my escapades. Sometimes you would come willingly; sometimes I would practically have to drag you kicking and screaming! But Hershel, you would always come with me, because you knew I couldn't do it alone.

My dear Hersh, you protected me until you couldn't possibly protect me any longer. When I fell into what we thought was a bottomless pit in the Akbadain ruins, I know everyone blamed you for my death. I can't imagine how it must have been for you, living with that guilt for all those years. You said you left Stansbury to move to London shortly after, because you couldn't live with the grief of losing your best friend, combined with the agony of living in a town where everyone thought you were to blame. In the end Hersh, you came through for me, just like you always did. It was you who made me realize that the people around me, the friends I had wanted so badly to hurt for the terrible things they had done, had never intended to hurt me. And when I was about to fall again, this time to what surely would have been my death, it was you who caught me, and with the help of our "brother" Henry, you pulled me to safety, and back into the arms of my friends. If it hadn't been for you and Henry, Hershel, I wouldn't be alive today.

I remember when I found out that you no longer lived in town. I swear I nearly broke down sobbing in front of everyone! All right, that may be a wee bit of an exaggeration, but I was very sad to hear that life could not to continue as it was when we were kids. As far away as our fair city of Monte d'Or is from London however, you still managed to come visit us often enough. Three months after our reunion, you came back to Monte d'Or to be a best man in Angela and I's wedding. Less than a year later you returned when our daughter, Penelope, was born. Do you remember I asked you if you would come live in the mansion with Angela, Penelope, Henry and I? I would continue to ask you that same question every single time you came to stay with us, which was dozens of times throughout the years. Unfortunately your position at Gressenheller kept you from being able to pack up and leave London at the drop of a hat. I would have to be satisfied with your annual, or if I was lucky biannual visits to our desert town.

And your visits were always well worth the wait. It's hilarious to think we were still riding Monte d'Or's roller-coaster when we were well into our seventies! And I went to London a few times myself to listen in on your archaeology lectures at the university. The first time I did it I didn't tell you I was coming — I just made my way in like I was a student and took a seat at the front of the lecture hall. And boy were you shocked to see me! I gave you such a surprise that your hair probably turned a shade greyer under that top-hat you used to wear! The lecture hall erupted with laughter, and you made me promise that from then on I would call before making any visits!

But the night of many lives come swiftly and without warning, and capture so many of us by surprise. The last time I spoke with you Hershel, you said you weren't up to travelling all the way to Monte d'Or. At the time you happened to have a cold, but I admit I did find it odd that you were letting a minor illness get in the way of our yearly get-together, and even odder was the fact that you didn't ask to set a later date... After speaking to Alfendi today however, I'm afraid it all makes sense to me now. Life is full of mysteries, but the end of life isn't one of them. There is nothing mysterious at all about death. The time and cause of our own we shall not know 'til it happens, but the fact that it's going to happen one day is something all humans know.

There is nothing we can do about this hard truth, except to try our bests to do as much as we can in the time we have. And I know, Hershel Layton, that you have used your time wisely. You're an archaeology great, a renowned Gressenheller professor, and a better puzzle solver than your lifelong best friend. But if what you and I have always said is true: that every puzzle has an answer, then tell me Hershel, what is the answer to the Earth's greatest mystery of time?

Oh where, oh where have the days of digging for treasure gone? How could our youth have been stolen right out from under our noses? Why is it that all we had to do was blink and suddenly our childhood was gone? When I was younger, all I wanted to do was to find treasure. Now that I am old, I realize that in those days I possessed the greatest treasure a person could have: All the time in the world, and people to share it with. I know that's what awaits you, Hershel, when sleep finally comes to your soul, and though I will miss you I can take comfort in the knowledge that we may not be separated for long. For we are not people who were meant to be separated. Death tried to tear us apart once, but we beat it... Didn't we Hersh? You may be going away from me now, but I'll be back to pester you soon.

When that day will be though, not you or I know, for no one has solved the great mystery of time.


End file.
